Best Hippy Poems
She is a groovy, hippy girl.
She loves that funky, trippy beat.
It is her hippy, trippy world!
She is a groovy, hippy girl.
She dances funky, hippy twirls,
and when she sits, she taps her feet.
She is a groovy, hippy girl.
She loves that funky, trippy beat.
1/12/2022
To tell you the truth
In my days of youth
To put it quite mild,
I was carefree and wild
A hipster by all means
Wearing my wholly bellbottom jeans
Always said "Out-of-Sight"
Sometimes, I would say "Dynamite"
With friends, I was "Tight"
Hey, I turned out "Alright"
10 Lines, 5 Words Rhyme III Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsor Lu Loo
3-31-2019
Lets get lost in our imagination
Let's take a vacation
Let language get lost in translation
Let your feelings take you to your destination
We are learning about the art of creation
Trippy visions and unexplainable vibrations deep inside
Only to be comforted while on an uncontrollable and unpredictable interplanetary ride
Come take a trip on the wild side
Come feel the energy surging out of our pores
You have no fears and no enemies when it comes to the psychedelic spores
They just want to share knowledge about what and who we are at the core
DMT and Ayahuasca want to show you other worldly doors and possibly what the afterlife has in store
Words can't express every chill and hallucination that flows through our being
What is a "true" definition of an entity or a being
Can you actually tell me this is just an illusion?
Or can you understand my language of confusion
So many are fortunate to experience mother nature's chemical fusions
Share art, share love, but most importantly share knowledge
Psychedelics are nature's version of educating us, similar to college
Just one experimentation and then the truth in my words will be easy to acknowledge
Love the Universe until it Love's you back ?
Well Plastered
Sippy
Hippy
Upon Stumbling into the Barber’s
Snippy
Hippie
Flower Child Wets Himself
Drippy
Hippie
Peace, Love & Clumsiness
Slippy
Hippie
The Cheeky Free Sprit
Lippy
Hippie
Written June 7, 2015
What's wrong with Hippies,
who like taking trippies
or smoke funny ciggies.
Freedom of mind, while brain is reclined,
no longer blind, the answers I find,
connections that bind, while time hits rewind.
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
Hippy was a potty moose
Read three books by Dr Seuss
One about a Cat
One about a Hat
One about Horton on the loose
hippy ... love chips How beautiful was it?
The park by the beach with one caged panda and bedraggled peacocks...calling and flirting, as nature dictated
Displayed by the sea
Water
Lake
Filled with crabs loitering by the inlet flow
Who waited patiently to secure our sausagemeat on a string
And rose embaressed and wonky
Clutching by one claw
Cross as grandma ... on a Monday
Wash day
Scrubbing stains ..
How beautiful and memorable was that 1974 summers day
As we bobbed in boats, as our brave, mad ever so handsome hippy father
Stood precariously ( against the rules) and splashed our sodden frames with his cruel laughing oar
How gorgeous was mother and fathers glorious young white teeth
Which matched perfectly the beautiful lively tinkering forms of light
Which danced upon said lake
The very last time I saw her honestly... laugh with adoration at his jesting antics
Hoping to impress
Her...
Stretching his vibrant smile as a peacock in bloom
It was a beautiful moment
The last time I felt swaddled in the possibility of our family , hope and
Generous
Love chips
Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
We’d preach a little gospel to save them all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
They were treacherously mean with their call.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
But the men would sneak, see us, big and tall.
And lay their money down, and have a ball.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.
He was tall, handsome, but left me after all.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.
Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.
Written May 1, 2018
sixties tribal group
grew their Hair rock musical~
charmingly naïve
TV's sure changed a lot since the sixties
From I Love Lucy to The Beverly Hillbillies
Oh for the innocence
Andy Griffith for instance
But a whole lot better than today's weirdies
There are things I'd rather
burn in hell for than
admit that I have done
'Cept anxiety
is pushing me
towards honesty
That foreign land foreboding
wander it could be loading
peace and love for all eternity.
The clan began singing before I saw the hippy dippy van.
It ripped around the mountain, and we heard its ceiling fan.
hollering and the wailing came to our ears with the smacking too.
It was the wild McCorlick Cousins, straight from Kalamazoo!
They are evil and they’re naughty, and they make us all laugh.
We were not surprised at all to see a contraband giraffe.
Their father is crazy, and their mother is beyond coping.
They came tearing down the street. No one here is moping!
Im just a happy hippy
I say it all day long
Those of you who know me
Will help me sing a song
To the tunes i make up daily
To the poetry i write
I'm just a happy hippy
Every day and every night
When I was in high school,
late 60's,
we were concerned
about the ballistic lose/lose climate of hate
in Vietnam
and spreading across the U.S.
The only smiling winners
were purveyors of ballistics
and their transport vehicles.
Mistrust of an unfederating nation,
bought and sold elected
through polarized competitive marketing
lack of healthy and effective self/other governing bodies,
lacking investment vision,
lacking revisional prospects of cooperatively-held vocations
in nondualistic public/private service,
unhappily lacking transparent extended family attachments,
lacking courage of vulnerable dyadic and polypathic relationships.
But, in this post-millennial time
in global school of hard
multiplying
degenerative climate trends,
our crisis looms in intimately private
and transcendent public infamy,
internationally
globally transparent climates
of fear,
anger,
hate,
detachment and cynical degeneration,
mendacity and commodification,
win/lose business as usual
and capitalistic might makes winged patriarchs Right
with kleptocratic unhealthy privilege.
Forgetful
that each individual identity
born of EarthMother womb
and egg
began in win/win organically cooperative integrity;
Just as each individual multigenerational seed
was produced as some plant's future sanctuary of hope.
The trusting faith of a mustard seed
is active hope for climates of win/win health care,
giving outside
and receiving inside.
Neither the Vietnam War
nor the inhumane and sacrilegious
kleptocratic War against ClimateHealth
could be Lose/Lose possible
with the Win/Win mountainous faith
of this liberal in love
mustard conserving-seed.
Sadly,
most of the Hippies I knew
were more into ketchup
on their fries
while counting body bags
and lies.
Hippy woman, born twenty-five years later, and yet, here you are.
A throwback from the seventies, a free spirited, sassy shining star.
In the winter, you bring the sun, and you light the world too.
On your deck this morning, you have rid the world of all her blue.
Hippy woman, with your beautiful hair and your amazing smile.
I love it that I can watch you wandering around, you have such style!
On your balcony, sunning yourself, unaware that we are watching you.
Neighbors love seeing you in the morning; you take away our blue.